<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Only Dream I Know by MJHajost</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058928">The Only Dream I Know</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJHajost/pseuds/MJHajost'>MJHajost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Emergency! (TV 1972)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:07:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJHajost/pseuds/MJHajost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel of sorts to"Little Smoke Eater".</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Only Dream I Know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>  <i>Love is why I came here in the first place</i></p>
  <p>
    <i>Love is now the reason I must go</i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>Love is all I ever hoped to find here</i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>Love is still the only dream I know</i>
  </p>
  <p>
  <i>	—John Denver, “Seasons of the Heart"</i></p>
</div><p> </p><p> <b> <em>Sometimes we grow together</em> </b></p><p>"John!Welcome back, pal!"Hank Stanley's wide grin was accompanied by an enthusiastic hand-pumping and back-slapping.</p><p>"Thanks, Cap."Caught off-guard by the gesture, John Gage stumbled.Looking down and around as if something had jumped in front of him with the intent of tripping him up, he straightened out his feet and unclenched Cap's fist from his own."It's, uh, good to be back."</p><p>"Well."Cap's head swiveled to the other men of the shift."Shall we get down to business?"</p><p>Assenting nods from the crew greeted his question, curious and eager glances at Johnny darting away when he caught their eyes.Gage held his breath a moment, releasing it slowly as Cap began the morning rundown of fire station business and chore assignments.</p><p>No sooner had Stanley dismissed them than the guys crowded around Gage and, like Cap, welcomed his return excitedly.</p><p>"She's fine," he answered to Mike's softspoken question about Becca."No, not for another week or so," to Marco's query about when the little girl would be returning to pre-school.And, "She's all right.A little shaky, I guess, but she's sleeping okay now," to Chet's inquiry about Holly.Finally, though, he held up his hands and stepped backwards."Uh, guys, I appreciate your concern, but this is a little overwhelming, okay?"He threw his partner a quick glance. </p><p>"What do you say we give him some room to breathe, huh, fellas?"Roy slipped quietly between the other three firefighters and Gage."Besides, we need to get the squad checked out.Dwyer said something about running out of blanket packs and bandages on their last run."He quickly steered Johnny around the squad, and Stoker, Kelly, and Lopez departed reluctantly for their own morning inspections.</p><p>"Running out of bandages?"Johnny quirked his eyebrow at Roy, who shrugged.</p><p>"It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment."Roy grinned back at him.</p><p>Johnny nodded his head in amusement."Thanks, partner."</p><p>"Come on, let's get to work here.Maybe we really do need supplies."</p><p>Gage pulled the trauma box from its compartment and inventoried the contents, then did the same with the drug box.When he had finished that, he checked the rear compartments for the blanket packs and sterile sheets, inspected the oxygen regulator, rearranged the tools in their kit on the back of the squad, then set to work scrubbing the windshield of the truck. </p><p>For most of the guys on A shift, the day was off to a bright start.The previous shift had been unusually slow and, with little to do, that shift had cleaned the station literally from top to bottom.The spic and span quarters delighted the crew of A-shift, though it left them with a little too much free time on their hands this morning. </p><p>For John, the lack of mundane chores meant that he spent a good portion of the morning trying to avoid conversations that were sure to be centered around him.</p><p>It was a relief when at last the tones signaled a run for the squad.</p><p>Johnny slid into the passenger seat of the squad and pulled his helmet on, tightening the chinstrap and watching the massive bay door lift.Roy climbed in beside him and handed him the call slip.</p><p>Johnny studied the address a moment, then pulled out the map book while Roy took the squad out of the station."Right," he murmured, fingers sliding nimbly across the pages as he directed his partner to the unfamiliar neighborhood.</p><p>It was a new subdivision, perched squarely on the edge of one of the rare pieces of land not yet developed.A scattering of partially finished dwellings mingled with green, manicured lawns and expertly landscaped yards of already occupied houses.A small crowd gathered at the end of the wide main street pointed the location of their rescue.</p><p>Roy stopped the squad behind the crowd, close to the rutted stretch of dirt that marked a future driveway. Two squad cars blocked the drive, lights strobing across the front of the partially-built house with a mesmerizing regularity. One of the police officers, whom they recognized as Taylor Wilson, approached as Johnny and Roy exited the squad.</p><p>“Hey, guys,” he greeted them. “Kid’s out back.”</p><p>Johnny’s heart lurched at the word “kid” but he managed to keep his composure. “What happened?”</p><p>Wilson grinned. “Bunch of kids were playing around in the house, thought it’d be fun to jump from the second story onto a pile of gravel back there. Only problem is that one of the kids missed the mark. Looks like he might have a broken ankle.”</p><p>The paramedics followed him back to the house, where three boys stood huddled near a fourth, who was sitting miserably on the ground next to a large pile of construction gravel. They parted as Johnny and Roy approached.</p><p>Kneeling down, Johnny set aside the drug box while Roy, behind him, began to set up the biophone. “Hey,” said Johnny. “Looks like you ran into a little trouble, huh?”</p><p>The boy nodded, eyeing the two men apprehensively.</p><p>“What’s your name?” Johnny continued, shifting so that he could get a look at the boy’s injured leg.</p><p>“Michael O’Rourke—Mike.”</p><p>“Well, Mike, my name’s John and that’s my partner, Roy. I’m just gonna touch your leg here. You let me know if it hurts, all right?” Johnny offered up a reassuring grin and gently explored the swelling just above the boy’s shoe. Mike gasped but didn’t cry out or move his foot. “Good job,” Johnny told him, turning and taking the blood pressure cuff from Roy and wrapping it around Mike’s upper arm. “How old are you, Mike?”</p><p>“Eleven. Twelve next month.”</p><p>“Looks like you’re gonna be spending your birthday in a cast,” Johnny told him.</p><p>Mike’s shoulders slumped visibly. “We were supposed to be going to Knott’s Berry Farm for my birthday,” he sighed.</p><p>“Might have to postpone it,” Johnny smiled.</p><p>“Have his parents been contacted?” Roy asked Taylor.</p><p>The cop nodded. “Mother’s on her way over.”</p><p>“Man, she’s gonna kill me,” moaned Mike. “She keeps telling us to stay out of these places.” His face took on an impish expression. “But it’s so cool to jump off!”</p><p>At that moment, a woman rounded the corner of the house, accompanied by another police officer. Her countenance was a mixture of irritation and worried sympathy. She stopped a few feet from her son, looked up at the platform from which he had apparently launched himself, and shook her head. “I won’t say I told you so,” she said to her son. She moved to his side and tousled his hair. “Guess experience is as good a teacher as any.”</p><p>They soon had Mike splinted and loaded into the ambulance. Johnny climbed in after the gurney, suggesting that Mike’s mother follow them in her own car.</p><p>At Rampart, once they had deposited Mike into someone else’s care, Johnny’s return to work was welcomed with the same enthusiasm—and questions—as the crew’s at the station. He managed to disentangle himself from the attention and he and Roy escaped to the squad and headed back to the station.</p><p>“At least now you’ve got it over with,” Roy reminded him, when Johnny complained about all the fussing.</p><p>“I’d rather not have to have it to begin with,” he muttered.</p><p>“Goes with the territory, partner.”</p><p>Johnny sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” He looked out the window and watched buildings go past. “I should be happy being back at work.”</p><p>“You’re not?” Roy wasn’t particularly surprised. He and Johnny had talked on the phone a few times since Becca’s rescue, and the younger man’s moods had swung between cheerful optimism and sullen indifference. Being used to Johnny’s abrupt mood changes, Roy wasn’t much bothered by it.</p><p>Johnny shrugged. “Beats sitting around all day long, being guilt-tripped by your wife.”</p><p>“I thought you guys were doing better.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, Holly has her own ideas about how well we’re doing.”</p><p>It was Roy’s turn to sigh. While he ordinarily would never have done so, he prayed that the rest of the shift would be busy—preferably a nice big factory fire that would keep them occupied for hours. Johnny in a funk was ten times worse than Johnny on a tear.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Sometimes we drift apart</em> </b>
</p><p>"Fear."Holly's response was instantaneous.Johnny automatically opened his mouth to protest, but a warning look from Withers shut it again.Though John had learned quickly the rule about interrupting, it was still the one rule with which he had the most difficulty.</p><p>"I don't like the fear," Holly went on after the slight pause. </p><p>"What are you afraid of, Holly?"</p><p>Johnny rolled his eyes surreptitiously.He couldn't begin to count the number of times this question had been asked during these sessions.And the answer was always the same.</p><p>"I'm afraid...of being a widow."</p><p>
  <em>Whoa, Holly...new answer.Bravo!</em>
</p><p>"What do you do when you become afraid?" asked Withers, glancing at Johnny as if daring him to interrupt.</p><p>Johnny watched as Holly thought about her answer, noting the way her legs crossed, the way her arm lay across the top leg, the tilt of her head.<em>Such powerful body language</em>, he thought.<em>Such...hostility.</em>His anger began to dissipate, replaced by an almost overwhelming grief.<em>Oh, Hol….</em></p><p>Holly finally shrugged."I don't know," she answered.Then, "I get angry," she amended.Her eyes found Johnny, and she seemed startled by the dismay on his face.</p><p>Withers waited patiently.</p><p>At last, "I'm angry that his job comes first," Holly said."I'm angry about the risks he takes.I'm angry that something might happen that would leave Becca without a father--"She broke off as Johnny drew a sharp gasp.She took in his suddenly pale features."What?" she demanded.</p><p>Johnny's hand went to his mouth and he shook his head, the image of that tiny body on the morgue slab flooding his memory."Nothing," he replied, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat.Those risks had included rescuing his own child.</p><p>Withers glanced at John and subtly made a notation on the notepad in his lap."Is John reckless?" he asked, shifting in his seat.</p><p>Holly studied her husband.Johnny looked away."Yes, sometimes," she said flatly.</p><p>“John? What do you think about that?”</p><p>Johnny remained silent for a long moment."I guess..."He stopped."I guess it bothers me that she thinks I'm reckless.I mean, I don't think I'm reckless.It's the nature of my job--it's what I do.It's dangerous."He struggled to remain undefensive.His eyes sought Holly's."You can't keep asking me to quit," he said softly, looking away.</p><p>A lengthy silence descended on the room. Johnny heard a muffled sound from Holly and looked up.Tears trickled silently down her face.He closed his eyes and dropped his head, emitting an almost inaudible, "Ah...."</p><p>"Okay, John, Holly, time's up today."Withers' voice was low and gentle."I'm going to give you an assignment for the next session."</p><p>"Great," mumbled Johnny, "homework."</p><p>Withers ignored him."I want you both to write about your first date," he continued. </p><p>Johnny frowned, puzzled. “Our first date?”</p><p>“Your first date,” confirmed Withers. “But separately—no comparing notes until our next session.”</p><p>They departed his office as they often did—in silence, making their way down to the parking lot and Johnny’s Wrangler. He turned to Holly as he buckled his seat belt. “Let’s stop for coffee on the way home,” he suggested.</p><p>Holly’s hesitation was only a fraction of a second. She nodded. “All right.”</p><p>Johnny drove them to what at one time had been one of their favorite cafes. They hadn’t been there in quite a while, but the decor hadn’t changed—an overwhelming sense of greens and blues, lots of booths and small tables. They were shown to a booth and after they had ordered coffee and pie, Johnny looked determinedly at Holly. “I’m sorry about your fear, Holly,” he said. “I…I can’t take it away, I know that. If you can’t live with it, I understand. I hate it, but I understand.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, too, Johnny.” She stirred cream into her cup, not looking up. “It’s not that I don’t love you…” She paused. “I think I love you too much.”</p><p>Johnny didn’t quite know what to say to that. But Holly went on before he needed to reply.</p><p>“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you, and that scares me. I don’t think I’m strong enough for that.”</p><p>“Oh, Holly.” Johnny reached across the table and took her hand. “You are so strong—you’re one of the strongest people I know.” His mouth twisted in a half smile. “You’ve put up with me for seven years.”</p><p>Holly’s eyes brimmed.</p><p>Johnny rubbed a thumb across her knuckles. “I miss your smile,” he told her. “It was the first thing I ever noticed about you.”</p><p>She blinked and a couple of tears trickled down her cheeks, but his words also brought a faint smile.</p><p>“Hol, can we start again? I mean, really start over? I really want us to work.”</p><p>And then she was crying in earnest. “Oh, Johnny….”</p><p>Johnny rose and moved to sit beside her, holding her against him as she sobbed. He didn’t say anything, just stroked her hair. The waitress approached, then backed away at a look from Johnny.</p><p>After a few minutes, Holly pulled away, sniffling, tears spent. Johnny offered her a napkin, and she wiped her face and blew her nose. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get your shirt all wet.”</p><p>Johnny smiled. “It’ll dry,” he assured her.</p><p>“If we start over,” she began carefully, “we both need to agree to do some things differently, right?”</p><p>Johnny nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “But let’s take it slowly, huh? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can change overnight—except for maybe this shirt.”</p><p>Holly smiled. “You twerp.”</p><p>Johnny grinned. “See? You’re already starting!”</p><p>Holly looked at her uneaten pastry. “I’m not hungry, are you?”</p><p>Johnny glanced at his pie. “I’m always hungry,” he said, scooping a forkful and bringing it to his mouth. He followed it with a swallow of coffee, then said, “Let’s go.”</p><p>He got the waitress’s attention and the check, paid the bill, and led Holly to the car. As they settled in he turned to her, his expression serious. “Holly…thank you for giving us another chance. I do love you.”</p><p>Holly returned his gaze. “I know you do,” she replied. “And thank you for saying it again.” She paused and looked through the windshield before adding, “You’re my one and only, Johnny, my one and only.”</p><p>Johnny started the car and drove them home.</p><p>
  <b> <em>A wiser man than I might know</em> </b>
</p><p>“Hang on, hang on—“ Gage struggled for a moment, then freed the stokes from the overhang. “Okay, go ahead.”</p><p>Above, Kelly and Lopez continued the slow raising of the laden basket, while below DeSoto kept a steady traction on the line to assure that the patient remained as horizontal as possible.Johnny followed its progress, shading his eyes with one hand.</p><p>The rescue had taken the better part of an hour, what with the rappel down the cliffside, stabilizing the fractured leg, and relaying information to the hospital via Dispatch since they could get no biophone signal in their remote location. The victim, however, had been in good spirits, considering his predicament, and spent much of the treatment time joking with the two paramedics. Overall, Johnny was fairly cheerful as he watched the stokes reach the top of the cliff. He and Roy prepared to ascend themselves, sending the biophone and drug box ahead of them.</p><p>At the top, Johnny climbed into the back of the ambulance with their patient while Roy trekked to the squad and prepared to follow the ambulance. The afternoon, he reflected, had been a good one—they’d had enough rescues to keep them busy but not so many that they were run off their feet. And all of the rescues had been fairly routine—even this one had gone pretty much by the book despite the distant location in the hills above the city. And a busy and routine shift made for a happy John Gage, which in turn, made for a happy Roy DeSoto.</p><p>He knew that Johnny and Holly had begun a delicate attempt at reconciliation, and that made Roy hopeful. He liked Holly a lot—she was good for Johnny, kept him grounded. Her fears for him were natural. He and Joanne had had many conversations about the risks of his job, and he well understood the icy chill the loved ones of firefighters felt whenever there was a report of an injury or,far worse, a line of duty death. Most wives, from what he knew, kept their fears on the back burner and seldom spoke of them. Holly would either do the same, as she had done at the beginning of the relationship, or she wouldn’t. There was no in-between.</p><p>He waited for Johnny at the nurses station, chatting briefly with Dixie while he helped himself to a cup of coffee.</p><p>“Busy day for you guys,” she commented, accepting the mug Roy poured for her.</p><p>He nodded. “Busy but routine,” he said. “My kind of shift.”</p><p>She smiled. “The best kind, I guess.”</p><p>“As long as we don’t lose anybody,” he amended.</p><p>“Of course.” The red light over the receiving station began to blink. “Speaking of busy routine,” she muttered, setting down her cup and moving away.</p><p>A door down the hall opened and Johnny emerged. Seeing Roy, he strode down the wide corridor. “We ready to go?”</p><p>Roy nodded, took a last swallow of his coffee, tossed the cup and, grabbing the handi-talkie, led the way to the squad.</p><p>“Looks like he’s gonna be fine,” Johnny told him as he settled onto the seat in the squad, referring to the patient they’d rescued and delivered to Rampart. “He’s got a broken leg and some bruised ribs, Brackett said, but other than that, he was pretty lucky.”</p><p>“He sure was,” agreed Roy. “I gather his bike was totaled, though.” He steered from the hospital complex and turned back toward the station.</p><p>“Did you know that bike cost him <em>two thousand</em> dollars?”</p><p>“Two <em>thousand</em>?”</p><p>“Can you imagine?” Johnny was clearly flabbergasted.</p><p>“I hope he had it insured,” Roy said, closing his gaping mouth.</p><p>Johnny shook his head. “I asked. He said he’d just got and was taking it for its first ride.” He sighed and looked out the window, a half grin on his face.</p><p>“You’d never had known it by the way he was joking,” Roy mused.</p><p>“Yeah, I couldn’t figure that out,” Johnny agreed. “He told me he’d saved six months to buy that bike.”</p><p>“I could save for a year and still not be able to afford it,” Roy said.</p><p>“Tell me about it!”</p><p>They arrived at the station in amicable humor, Johnny nattering on about the mangled bike and its similarly mangled owner to a fresh audience.</p><p>“I wonder if he races,” mused Mike.</p><p>“Races?” It was obvious the idea had never occurred to the young paramedic. “Huh.” He rummaged in the fridge for something to snack on and came up empty.</p><p>Mike nodded. “A racer might spend that kind of money on a bike—he might even have more than one like that.”</p><p>“More than <em>one</em>?” Johnny shook his head as he moved to the cookie jar. “Man, must be nice to have money to burn.”</p><p>Mike shrugged. “If he’s a pro, then a bike would just be part of the equipment he’d need for his job. He might also have sponsors to cover costs.”</p><p>“How come you know so much about it?” asked Johnny, replacing the lid of the empty cookie jar and returning to the fridge. He settled for a glass of milk and sat at the table with it.</p><p>“Don’t you ever read the sports pages?”</p><p>Johnny looked blank.</p><p>“The Tour de France? The Dirty Kanza?”</p><p>Johnny’s look veered between understanding and bewilderment. “Everybody’s heard of the Tour de France,” he muttered, given the name a distinctly American pronunciation. “The other one sounds like an exotic drink.”</p><p>“Yeah, it does,” Mike laughed. “It’s basically a race across Kansas. Long and dirty and hot, from what I’ve read.”</p><p>“Sounds like a ball,” Johnny said drily.</p><p>Mike grinned. “I’ve thought of doing it,” he said.</p><p>Johnny snorted milk.“What?” he choked.</p><p>“It’s just a matter of training,” Mike assured him. “Well, that and time and money…none of which I have. Right now, anyway.”</p><p>Johnny wiped the spilled milk from his shirt, making a face at it. “You know,” he said, looking back up at the other man, “I could see you doing that—you’d be good at bike racing.”</p><p>“You think so?”</p><p>“Sure.” Johnny grinned. “Just don’t ask me to go along on a ride—I’d never be able to keep up.”</p><p>It was Mike’s turn to grin. Johnny almost never admitted there was something he couldn’t do.</p><p>The tones suddenly sounded and they both rose to answer the summons.</p><p>“You know, that Stoker’s somethin’ else,” Johnny told Roy as they exited the station ahead of the engine.</p><p>“Still waters run deep,” Roy agreed.</p><p>“Nah, he’s just somethin’ else,” Johnny replied.</p><p>Roy looked sideways at his partner and shook his head. “Give me strength,” he said under his breath.</p><p>
  <b> <em>The seasons of the heart</em> </b>
</p><p>Holly looked up as Johnny came in from the garage, toolbox in hand. “What’s up?” she asked.</p><p>“Gonna see if I can fix that leak under the bathroom sink,” Johnny answered, setting the box on top of the counter and opening it.</p><p>Holly opened her mouth, then shut it and forced a smile on her face. “Great,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.</p><p>She’d been after him about the leak for a few weeks now. She no longer kept anything in the cabinet under that sink, and at least twice a day mopped a small puddle of water from the floor of the cabinet. Their strained budget didn’t currently have the funds to pay a plumber, and she had been hoping one of Johnny’s many capable friends would be called in to handle the fix. She was, in fact, proud of herself for not nagging him about it, and right now, even prouder that she kept her mouth shut about him tackling it himself. What Johnny knew about plumbing wouldn’t fill a thimble.</p><p>But things had settled down in their lives. She had joined a support group where she had a chance to occasionally vent when the need arose. Johnny, in turn, had gone several weeks without any type of injury—not even a cut or scratch. He still entered dangerous situations, but it appeared that he did so a little more thoughtfully than he might have once. So, a certain balance was being achieved, and they were cautiously rekindling their relationship. Holly didn’t want to jeopardize the hard-won reconciliation. If Johnny wanted to tackle a plumbing repair, she would not challenge him.</p><p>Johnny continued to rummage in the toolbox, muttering to himself. Grabbing some pliers and a new compression collar, he looked around vaguely. “You got a small bowl or something?” he asked. “Something to catch water?”</p><p>Holly thought for a moment and then opened a cabinet and pulled out a plastic dishpan.</p><p>“Oh, perfect, thanks.” Johnny took the dishpan and wandered off, whistling cheerfully. He heard Becca pattering into the kitchen and his heart surged with happiness. When he was finished with the sink repair, maybe he’d take her to the playground down the street for a while.</p><p>Being Johnny, he was in over his head almost as soon as he opened the cabinet door. His first realization was that he never noticed how little light there was in the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he finally found a working flashlight and made his way back to the bathroom. After several tries, he finally managed to situate the flashlight so that it illuminated the area he needed to see.</p><p>Uncoupling the pipe pieces took him a little bit longer than he thought, and he misplaced the dishpan so that when the pipes came apart, the water missed the pan and dribbled onto the floor of the cabinet. Still, he was pleased with himself: he hadn’t broken anything. Putting everything back together, though, nearly defeated him. He couldn’t get the pieces aligned properly at first. When at last he got everything aligned, he discovered that he’d put on the old compression collar. Muttering curses under his breath he dismantled it all and started over.</p><p>At last, an hour and a half after he’d begun, Johnny finally tightened the parts to his satisfaction and moved to test their seal.</p><p>Across the hall, Holly heard a loud, “Ow!” followed by a muttered, “Son of a—“</p><p>She crossed to the open doorway and peered in.</p><p>Johnny was grimacing and flexing his shoulder.</p><p>“What happened?” she asked, frowning slightly.</p><p>“Oh, I hit my shoulder on the bottom of the sink,” he told her disgustedly.</p><p>Unlike a traditional vanity, the cabinet beneath the sink had been built around the sink, which meant that instead of hitting his shoulder against the wood of the vanity, Johnny had come up against the sink itself—a tad more painful contact.</p><p>Holly’s lips twitched. “You all right?”</p><p>Johnny made a face. “Yeah. That hurt, though.”</p><p>“You want an ice pack?”</p><p>Johnny stood up and turned on the faucet, bending over carefully to check for a leak in the trap. “No, I’ll be all right.” He bent over and waited while water ran in the sink, watching the trap for any leaks. After a few minutes, he turned and grinned at Holly. “Looks like it’s fixed.”</p><p>Holly smiled. “Awesome. Thanks, Johnny.” She stepped over and kissed him. “I’m proud of you.”</p><p>Johnny sighed contentedly as he turned off the water, closed the cabinet door, and gathered his tools. “I’m proud of me, too,” he grinned. He looked at her. “Have I got time to take Becca to the playground before her nap?”</p><p>“Plenty of time,” Holly assured him. “And thanks—I can get some stuff done if you get her out of the house for a while.”</p><p>“Good deal.” It was Johnny’s turn to kiss her, then he departed cheerfully, calling to their daughter.</p><p>Holly looked at the mess Johnny had left—the water-filled dishpan, the old compression collar, and a dirty rag—and shook her head with a rueful smile. At one time she would have been easily irked by this, but she was learning—slowly—to once again accept his quirks. At least the leak was fixed, and even though it had taken a couple of weeks to fix, she hadn’t had to nag him and make both of them miserable.</p><p>She began to hum as she picked up the mess, and went to help Becca put on shoes and a jacket.</p><p>Johnny sat down to dinner a few hours later looking tired.Holly, busy getting Becca situated with her spaghetti, didn’t notice Johnny merely pushing the pasta around on his plate until she was reaching for a piece of garlic bread. Her expression was a mixture of amusement and puzzlement.</p><p>“What’s up?” she asked. “You suddenly don’t like Italian?”</p><p>“Huh? Oh,” he smiled tiredly. “No, it’s great.” He moved his shoulder carefully. “My shoulder just hurts. Maybe the playground was a bit much.” He reached for a piece of garlic bread, stopped and grimaced, then dropped that hand and reached up with the other one.</p><p>Holly frowned. “Where exactly did you whack yourself?” she wanted to know, putting down her fork and studying him in concern.</p><p>“My shoulder blade,” Johnny said. “Why?”</p><p>“Oh.” She picked up her fork again. “I thought maybe you’d hit your collarbone, the way you’re favoring that side.”</p><p>Johnny didn’t say anything. He was, in fact, surprised by how much his shoulder blade hurt. It wasn’t as if he’d been struck with something; he’d only knocked against the sink.</p><p>By morning, however, he found himself favoring that side considerably, and when he arrived at the station for his shift, it took him twice as long as normal to change into his uniform. Roy finally noticed his cautious movements.</p><p>“What’s wrong with you?” he asked as Johnny made yet another face as he lifted the drug box back into its compartment.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Roy gestured. “What’d you do to yourself? You’re holding your arm funny.”</p><p>Johnny explained about hitting his shoulder blade. “Hurts like the devil,” he finished.</p><p>Roy nodded. “We’ve got to head to Rampart for some supplies,” he said. “Let’s get it checked out.”</p><p>“Checked out? What for?”</p><p>“Knowing you, it’s probably something weird, but as long as we’re there you might as well take advantage of the facilities.”</p><p>Johnny shrugged, stopping and making a face as the motion set up a series of little knives dancing along his side.</p><p>An hour later, he found himself gaping at Kelly Brackett. “A fractured <em>scapula</em>?”</p><p>Brackett nodded, one finger following a minuscule dark line on the x-ray in front of him. “You whacked yourself a lot harder than you thought.”</p><p>Johnny’s astonished face turned to Roy. “I never heard of anybody doing that,” he said.</p><p>Roy shrugged. “First time for everything.”</p><p>Brackett turned to Johnny. “Looks like you’re gonna have to take it easy for a couple of weeks.”</p><p>Johnny’s head dropped toward his chest. “Man….”</p><p>Brackett smothered a smile. “We’ll get you set up with a sling—“</p><p>Johnny’s head snapped up. “A sling?”</p><p>“It’ll help you remember to rest that arm and limit your movements,” Brackett explained. “The more you rest it, the quicker it’ll be able to heal and the sooner you’ll be back on the squad.”</p><p>Johnny looked from Brackett to Roy and back again. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered.</p><p>“I don’t believe you did this at home and not on the job,” Roy said.</p><p>Johnny just shook his head.</p><p>Twenty minutes later, his arm resting in a comfortable sling, Johnny settled himself in the squad, scowling as Roy started the engine and began the trek back to the station. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Cap what had happened, and even less the ribbing he knew he’d be getting from Chet Kelly.</p><p>It never occurred to him to consider his wife’s reaction, and it was not what he expected.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said, struggling to keep her laughter in check. “Really, Johnny, I’m not laughing at you—it’s just that here I worry all the time about you getting hurt at work and you go and fracture a shoulder blade doing a chore at home.”</p><p>“It’s not funny,” Johnny groused. “It hurts.”</p><p>“I’m sure it does,” she giggled.</p><p>Johnny blinked at her. “Are you laughing?” He was incredulous. “You’re laughing!”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” But her giggles became open-mouthed laughter. “You’re the only person I know who could do something like that.”</p><p>Johnny was grinning now. “You are something else,” he told her. Then he grabbed her and pulled her to his side, planting a kiss on her open mouth. “I have so missed that laugh,” he said.</p><p>Holly took a breath and looked up at him. “You know, I’ve missed it, too.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>This story began almost as soon as I finished writing “Little Smoke Eater” but never got past the first couple of pages until now. MUCH thanks again to my bestest friend for helping fix my mistakes. Anything still wrong is totally my fault. </i></p><p>
  <i>
    
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i></i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i></i>
  </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>